


say so

by dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: the heart's intention [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, Demisexual Sirius Black, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mentioned Abuse, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, No age gap, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Sexuality, Teenage Drama, Time Skips, Underage - Freeform, Werewolf Angst, they're all about 15/16/17 through the course of the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: Unable to wait any longer, James flops to the floor beside the couch, and asks, “What happened?”He’s expecting to hear that Sirius and Remus have gotten into an argument, honestly. Or that Sirius has finally explained more about his home life to Remus. The actual truth—that Sirius wanked Remus off—isn’t something James ever thought he’d hear.---One particularly bad full moon night that leaves Remus's hands injured sets Remus, Sirius, James, and Lily on a path that leaves them confused, questioning, and most of all, happy.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/James Potter, Remus Lupin/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin/James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Series: the heart's intention [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891564
Comments: 29
Kudos: 99





	1. day to night to morning

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:  
> 1\. ~~this is anon bc I'm shy~~ taken off anon!  
> 2\. regarding the underage tag: this is set in fifth, sixth, and seventh year for the Marauders and co. they are all the same age, more or less, and consent to everything even if they don't always quite understand their feelings.  
> 3\. the premise of this fic is sort of thin lmao and canon/real life full moon dates mean nothing to me, sorry  
> 4\. fic and chapter titles from Say So by Doja Cat  
> 5\. JKR is a TERF and she can get fucked. trans people are who they say they are. I do not support or agree with anything she has said on the matter.  
> 6\. not sure how quickly updates will come. the chapter count is based off my outline.

Remus wakes up in the Hospital Wing slowly, painfully, surrounded by familiar smells and voices—herbs, potions, blood, magic, the comforting and sort of disgusting scent of teenage boy. There are no books or parchments around him like there usually is, and after a moment, he remembers it’s Sunday. His thoughts jump back to classes, hoping that he’ll be okay enough to be able to go the next day.

“I’ll take homework duty,” a voice—still a bit high-pitched, and more than a little embarrassed by it; he immediately recognizes that it’s Peter—says from somewhere nearby. “I’ve got most of mine done already.”

“I’ve got notes, then,” James replies, confident and easy, a bit distracted. “McG is upset with me after the whole  _ incident _ , so it’ll be good for her to see me paying attention in class.”

He says ‘incident’ like he doesn’t agree with the term, but when Remus tries to remember what it was—some prank or fight, surely, knowing James—he finds his memories foggy. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, so he doesn’t bother to feel worried about it, just a bit annoyed. He hates not knowing things. 

“That leaves me with meals, then?” Sirius confirms, and the bed dips suddenly, unexpectedly under him. Finally, Remus cracks his eyes open, just enough to see that Sirius has been sitting on the bottom of the cot, and is leaning forward now, looking at something in James's hands.

“Mmhmm,” James agrees, peering down at it. On his other side, Peter stands, glancing between whatever it is—Remus has his suspicions—and the other two boys. “And if he needs help changing or in the shower, I can take care of that. Good?”

“Good,” Sirius and Peter echo.

Remus closes his eyes again before any of them can catch him awake. Deciding to take stock of himself, he tries to figure out where the pain is coming from, where the wolf could’ve hurt him last night. There are dull aches all over his body, pinpointing in his right calf, his hips and shoulders, and his hands. Experimentally, he lifts a finger and immediately hisses in pain, the feeling white-hot and all too intense for how brief the movement was.

“Moony?” Sirius turns, the blankets twisting a little under his weight and pulling at Remus's leg. The drag of it against his healing wound has him biting his lip to keep any mortifying noises in.

“Hmm?” He manages to reply, not quite able to open his eyes all the way with the amount of watering going on.

“You awake?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t want to wait any longer than he has to, so before one of them can start their usual distracting routine, he asks, “W-what happened?”

James sighs, and comes around to sit on the other side of the bed. He’s always trying to make Remus feel better, hiding and downplaying things, and it’s sweet, sort of. But Remus wants to know—he  _ has  _ to know. Thankfully, sometimes James with his infinite wisdom seems to understand that, and doesn’t beat around the bush. “I don’t know what was going on with him last night, but he was really upset we think. He cut you up pretty good.”

“My hands?”

All three of them making an anxious air-sucking-through-teeth sound, but it’s Sirius who says, “They’re bad, mate. Really, really bad. Pomfrey said you must’ve almost torn them off.”

“Torn off my hands?!” Remus's heart stops in his chest, fuzzy images of a monster—of the beast inside him—so feral that it could do something so painful and terrible.

“No, no!” James and Sirius exclaim at once.

“No, not your hands,” Peter quickly explains, “Your fingers. Almost tore off your  _ fingers _ .”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Remus says, trying to breathe. He’s used to injuries—scars and bite marks and huge, darkly blooming bruises—but this is on a whole different level. Terrified of what he’ll find, he tries to sit up and look at his hands, but Sirius pushes him to lay back down.

Without having to ask what Remus was trying to do, he carefully takes Remus's wrist in his own and lifts it up so he can see. From just above Sirius's grip to halfway between his first and second knuckles, his hand is wrapped in gauze. Smelling overwhelmingly of some sort of magical salve and blood, Remus has to close his eyes for a moment, feeling ill. 

“It’ll be okay, Moony,” Peter reassures.

“Yeah,” James says, as confident as he ever is. “We’ll take care of you until you’re all healed up.”

Remus thinks back to what James was holding earlier—though he’s never properly seen it, he’s positive it’s a parchment with a list of the all ways they’ve had to help Remus in the past, all the “duties” they take up after full moons. Thinking about it makes his stomach squirm—on one hand, he’s reminded of how his friends truly do love him. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to go to the lengths they have for him if they  _ didn’t  _ love him. But on the other hand, he feels patronized and greedy, like they’re babying him, and all the time they spend on him could be spent on better things, like homework or trying to impress Lily Evans or...or...something.

He’s tried, before, to get them to leave him be, lying as he promised he could handle everything himself. They all said no, and James hit him upside the head for it, then kissed it better. Then he said, “Moony, your hair smells  _ awful _ ,” to cover up the fact that he’s exactly like his Mum.

Case in point: now.

“You don’t have to do that,” Remus tiredly pushes, even though he doesn’t want to go the next few days without some help. He’s never hurt his hands before, not like this. He doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the healing process.

“But we want to,” they all say, Sirius blurting it out half a beat before the other two.

Remus looks from Sirius to Peter to James. They’re all staring back, sincere and united in this. He feels ganged up on and loved all at the same time, and he knows there’s no use fighting, not when they get like this. He swallows, and says, “Well—okay, then. Th-thank you.”

“Anything for you, Moony,” Sirius says.

* * *

Remus is stuck in bed all day, and not even his own, which Sirius thinks is dumb and unfair. He always feels much better in his own bed, with the other Marauders around him.

But no amount of begging Pomfrey works. They try it every full moon, and their efforts always fail.

Sirius sighs, not bothering to pay attention to the class going on around him. At his side, James is taking diligent notes worthy of Remus, which means Sirius can just look at them later instead of having to take his own now. He’s sure James and Remus won’t mind.

Flitwick keeps droning on, and Sirius doesn’t hear a word, thinking instead of much more important things: Remus and the wolf who nearly tore him to bits; how he’ll need to get on James's case about getting the final stages of their Animagus plans into motion; the way Peter tripped and hit his head in the hallway, and how Sirius will want to check for a knot once class is over.

“Pay attention,” Lily snaps in a whisper from the table next to his.

Sirius snorts, wondering if she thinks he’ll actually just listen to her. But then James, the suck up, elbows him without even looking up from his parchment.

“Fine,” he sighs, setting his feet flat on the floor and pretending to care about whatever lesson they’re having. Looking the picture of focus, Sirius drifts off into daydreams until class ends half an hour later.

James pokes him in the shoulder. “C’mon, mate. Time for lunch.”

“Right!” He jumps to his feet, hurriedly stuffing his things into his bag, uncaring about the mess of it all. Actually, he quite enjoys the mess—he’d never be able to get away with something so careless at home.

But he doesn’t want to think of that now. They meet up with Pete on the way to the Great Hall, and he manhandles Peter and checks his head until he’s sure he’s fine. When they get to the Hall, Sirius piles up a plate for Remus while James takes care of his own and Sirius's. Together, they carry their plates to the Hospital Wing, finding Remus awake but still groggy from a nap.

Sirius takes his spot on the bed before James or Peter can make an attempt for it. They really only do it to tease him, but he doesn’t care. It’s his spot and he won’t be giving it up any time soon.

“Sirius,” Remus greets, rubbing his eyes with the back of arm, where there were a few bruises but no bandages.

“Hullo, Moony,” he says, unable to help his smile. “Hungry?”

Remus grins. “I could eat.”

“Here, Siri,” James says, settling his plate on the bed next to Sirius. “Make sure you eat, too.”

“Yes, Mum,” he teases, making sure to take a big bite before turning to Remus. “How should we do this?”

Usually, when Remus hurts himself enough to need their help, it’s his shoulders or his legs. They’ve only had to feed him like this once before, in third year, and it was James that did it then, Sirius taking homework duty.

Flushing, Remus says, “Just…small bites, please.”

“Small bites, I can do that,” Sirius says, mostly to himself. Slowly, he makes sure to get what seems like a perfectly small-sized spoonful of mashed potatoes and feeds Remus. It’s nice, Sirius thinks. He’s always enjoyed taking care of Remus. He can’t wait until they’re Animagi and can join Remus on the full moons, taking care of him then too.

James and Peter keep up a conversation for the rest of the lunch hour, which is riddled with interruptions by James—”Sirius,  _ eat _ ,” and “Oi, your turn now.” 

Eventually, Remus sits back, feeling peaky, and Sirius turns back to his own plate, thanking Merlin for warming charms. And for Poppy Pomfrey, he thinks some minutes later, when she comes to kick them out in the middle of one of James's many sermons on the abundant and wondrous qualities of one Lily Evans.

“We’ll come get you tonight even if we have to smuggle you out,” James assures.

Testily, Pomfrey says, “Boys….”

“See you,” they say together, offering quick, manly—but gentle—shoulder pats. 

“See you,” Remus repeats, and the last Sirius sees of him, he looks small and dejected.

James throws an arm over Sirius's shoulders, pulling him close. “He’ll be alright. Now come on, or we’ll be late.”

* * *

Pomfrey is reluctant to let Remus go that night, but after promising to keep to his bed all night and to not attend class the next day, she relents. The wound in his calf has mostly healed up by now, and walking is only a bit of a pain, tugging on the cuts at his waist. The staircase up to their dorm is the worst, but somehow he manages it, sinking gratefully onto his bed as soon as he can.

James helps him change out of the hospital clothes into his pajamas, which is only horribly embarrassing for a few minutes, at least. Then he gets to relax back into his own mattress, into the comforting presence of his own room.

For a while, they sit up and talk, Peter copying over a few bits of homework for him before they lay down to sleep. Sirius reminds, “Don’t copy word for word, it’s got to sound like Remus, not like you,” and Peter grouses, “I know, mate!”

Remus dozes for a while, sitting up in bed, just listening to the familiar rising and falling of their voices. He mumbles goodnights at some point, and a “Ta” when someone pulls the blankets up and shuts his bed curtains for him.

But some time later, he wakes up, blinking his eyes open. Sleep suddenly feels very far away, and very impossible. Trying to figure out what woke him, he listens—Peter is snoring a bit to his left. Across the room, James is making the little shuffling noises he always makes when he’s mostly asleep and trying to get comfortable. He can hear Sirius breathing, even and soft. Outside, there are the normal castle noises, everything seeming as normal as can be as the school settles into the start of the term.

Then he feels it—a throb by his hips. He looks down and curses softly when he sees it’s not from his cuts.

* * *

Sirius is awake. Awake and looking up at the ceiling, wishing he could sleep, knowing he’s in for a long night of restless thinking.

The school year is just starting, and he’s never been so grateful for it. He hates being sent back home, away from his friends, back into his mother’s clutches. He always tries to be good, but her standards and rules are impossible to meet, especially with Father there looking disappointed and menacing, and Regulus there watching silently and adding all kinds of pressure to Sirius's shoulders, and blasted Kreacher tormenting him every chance he gets.

Being at school, with his mother nowhere in sight, is infinitely better. But she lingers in his mind even while he’s away, and the more he thinks about it all, the harder it is to sleep.

He tries, he really does. But at some point, he gives up, and lays there, staring, until he hears Remus wake up in the bed next to his. For a while, he debates getting up, tiptoeing over, and seeing if Remus will stay up with him, but he knows Remus needs his rest. 

Sighing silently, he stays put. But he can’t help that his ears are attuned to Remus. He listens as there are shuffling noises, accompanied by little pained grunts, and then—an eternity later—a very soft rhythmic noise, one that he can only catch the barest hints of, not nearly enough to figure out what it is.

It doesn’t last long, however, stopping alongside a louder whine of hurt that immediately has Sirius sitting up in his bed. Has Moony hurt himself again? 

Sirius doesn’t want to risk the chances that he’s perfectly fine—he’d rather bother Remus with a check-in than leave him in pain and without help. Quietly, he slips out of the curtains and tiptoes to Remus's bed. He calls out in a whisper, “Moony? You alright?”

“M’fine, go back to bed,” Remus responds, but his voice cracks. Sirius opens the curtains without a second thought, and squints in the deep darkness, trying to see what’s wrong.

“What was that noise?”

“I told you I’m fine,” Remus says instead of answering him. His voice is a little muffled, like he’s turned away. Sirius can’t quite tell. “Really, mate, it’s—”

“Are you sure? I can help, you know, with whatever you need.”

“This isn’t something you can help me with,” Remus says, a tense laugh in his voice.

“But there is something wrong,” Sirius presses.

Remus looks at him, gaze intense even with how little lightness there is. The moon is mostly full outside, but the window doesn’t reach all the way over here. Sirius stands a little taller, meeting Remus's eyes head-on.

Finally, Remus relents. Hushed, he explains that—that—that he’s got a stiffy. And it won’t go down, and he’s quite exhausted but can’t sleep unless he does something about it, but his busted fingers aren’t exactly helping. 

“Why don’t I…  _ you know, _ ” Sirius offers with an encompassing gesture to Remus's lap, blushing furiously. 

“I could never ask that of you,” Remus says after a moment, annoyingly formal with his anxiety.

“Well, you need your rest, don’t you?” Sirius says sensibly. It helps calm him down, to think of this in different terms—in Taking Care of Remus terms. Those are familiar, easy. Sex is kind of scary, but caring for Remus never could be. “I really don’t mind.”

“Well… well, alright,” Remus says. “I—I appreciate it, Sirius, you have no idea how much.”

Sirius thinks that’s a little much, but then—he’s never really felt the need or desire to touch himself before. Maybe he really doesn’t know.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he climbs up on the bed and sits between Remus's legs. They don’t touch, Sirius's legs tucked up beneath him, Remus's whole body tensed. “How do you want to do this, then?”

There’s a brief pause, then—”Close your eyes.” He does, and puts a hand over for good measure, listening as Remus shifts the blankets around, hissing a bit uncomfortably as he jostles his fingers. Then, those same fingers reach out and take Sirius's wrist. He’s shaking, just a bit, and without thinking, Sirius takes the hand from over his eyes and lays it on Remus's knee, petting him like he always does. It eases Remus instantly, and Sirius smiles, his eyes still closed.

Remus leads his hand under the blanket and then there’s skin to skin contact and—

Sirius thinks that if it were anyone else—anyone but James, that is—he would feel uncomfortable with this. But it’s Remus,  _ Moony _ , and somehow it feels very normal considering Sirius has never touched anyone before. Maybe it’s because they’ve been rooming together for four years already, showering too. He feels safe with the Marauders, comfortable in the enclosed space of Remus's bed.

When Remus whispers corrections to his grip and movements, he readjusts easily. There’s a warm feeling in his stomach, but he ignores it for the moment, focusing. It doesn’t take long, however, before Remus is tense under his hands again, exhaling shakily as he finishes. He sinks into the mattress, utterly relaxed.

Sirius pulls away after a moment, and awkwardness invades like doxies on a perfectly good afternoon.

“Um,” Remus says. His voice jolts at something in Sirius, striking a chord in his chest. He doesn’t know what it means. “Um. Thank you. That was…good.”

“You’re welcome,” Sirius says, stretching his fingers. “Uh, do you have your wand?”

Remus nods, and once he finds it, it’s quick work to clean them both up. He helps Remus pull his pants and pajama trousers up, and starts to tuck him in before realizing how bloody hot it is in the confines of the curtains. “Goodnight,” Remus whispers before he retreats back to his own bed.

“Goodnight, Moony.”

He slips under his covers, holding his breath until he hears Remus's soothing, sleeping breaths.

Sirius lays on his stomach, looking toward James's side of the room, and thinks about the feeling in his stomach earlier. It drowns out thoughts of home and of Mother, and eventually, finally, he falls asleep.

* * *

In the afternoon, while Remus—who, for some reason, can barely look at Sirius, his eyes anywhere but on their friend—and Peter talk about the homework, Sirius takes James by the arm and drags him to one of their most secret hiding spots in the castle, a small room tucked behind a portrait far from the Fat Lady.

James doesn’t protest. He gestures Sirius in first, then checks they haven’t been seen before slipping inside as well and closing it behind him.

They only come here when they need total privacy, even from their two best friends. It’s always ultra super serious matters. It’s where James first pitched the idea that Remus was a werewolf.

Sirius has slumped onto the only seating available, a small and dusty couch in a deep shade of red. He would look regal, if not for the odd expression on his face.

Unable to wait any longer, James flops to the floor beside the couch, and asks, “What happened?”

He’s expecting to hear that Sirius and Remus have gotten into an argument, honestly. Or that Sirius has finally explained more about his home life to Remus. The actual truth—that Sirius wanked Remus off—isn’t something James ever thought he’d hear. Still, he’s not too phased. 

“Alright…,” he says, eyeing Sirius's face. “Is that why you were both acting so off this morning?”

Sirius throws his arm over his eyes, nodding.

James waits for him to say something, but he doesn’t. And then it dawns on him what he should be asking about, remembering how Sirius rushed out of the showers before Remus and James could come in.

“Did you… did you like it, or something?”

Still hiding, he confesses, “Maybe? I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that before. And when I went back to my bed, I was… I was….”

“Wait,” James says, understanding at once, staring at the deepening blush on Sirius's cheeks. “Never? Not at all?”

“No,” Sirius chokes out. 

It seems shocking to James, who had assumed Sirius had followed him to this next step of life. But he doesn’t express the shock, thinking it probably wouldn’t be helpful. Instead, he says, “Well, that’s okay. And it’s okay you got a little turned on, too. That’s normal.”

Sirius peeks out from under his arm, giving James a critical look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Sirius sighs explosively and rubs his palms over his face. Then he sits up, and opens his mouth, about to say something when his expression flickers. “Wait,” he says loudly, reaching out to slap at James's arm. “ _ Wait _ , James.”

“Waiting,” he says out of habit.

Sirius doesn’t seem to hear him. “What if this happens again? What if he needs to… you know,” and he makes a crude gesture, one that abruptly has James's cheeks heating, an image of what must’ve happened the night before striking him like a bolt of lightning, “and he can’t, because his hands are hurt again?”

“What are you saying?” James asks, clearing his throat and trying to forget his thoughts. “That we need to add another thing to the list?”

“Yes. Dick holding duty.”

Sirius says it so formally, straight-faced and sincere, and James can’t help but burst into laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, beaming. “But I see what you mean. What if he has to piss? He’ll need one of us to help.”

Sirius nods. “Exactly!”

* * *

“I do not need your help to piss,” Remus says loudly, much too loudly, his heart pounding in his ears. He pushes away all lingering thoughts of this morning, when he had to bend his fingers painfully to manage the task, and of how he’s been avoiding the loo ever since, not daring to try again.

Peter glares at the floor of their room, his cheeks as red as Remus's feel. “I’m sorry, mate,” he says to the loose floorboard. “But I am not taking dick holding duty, ever.”

Oddly, Peter’s disgust is comforting to Remus, who chokes out, “There’s not going to be any—any  _ dick holding duty _ . They’ve just gone completely nutters.” 

“We have not,” Sirius defends, and Remus forgets himself for a moment, looking over to meet his eyes. Irritation immediately makes way for embarrassment, as well as the horrifically mortifying crush Remus has been harboring for some time now.

Rationally, James adds, “If something like last night happens again, it’s best one of us knows about it, Moony. There’s no shame in needing help from time to time.”

“But this isn’t—this isn’t the same as the rest,” Peter says.

“Sure it is,” James shrugs. “It was just to help you sleep, wasn’t it, Remus?”

Remus stutters something affirmative, avoiding looking anywhere near any of them. He thinks if he does, he’ll drop dead of pure mortification.

After a moment and a significant look between Sirius and James, James shifts on his feet. “We won’t put it on the list if you don’t want. It’d just be a precaution, in case your hands get hurt again.”

Remus risks a glance at Peter, suppressing a smirk as he sees his friend looking at Remus's bed with horror and whatever the opposite of curiosity is. He thinks about Sirius, and how last had felt—safe and okay, comfortable with his best friend. He thinks about James, who’s really very kind to him, and fully convinced that he’s not being even a bit weird right now.

“Fine,” he says, looking then to the door to the bathroom. “You can add it. And, um. I might need some help soon.”

“Remus?!” Peter jumps to his feet, paling considerably. James and Sirius look at each other again, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

“In the loo!” Remus corrects quickly. “That’s all!”

Peter clutches his chest in relief, and it’s then and there that Remus decides he’s never going to injure his bloody hands ever again.


	2. why don't you say so?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two time skips in this chapter:  
> \-- one at the beginning  
> \-- one when it switches over to Sirius POV

James wakes from his nap abruptly, his dreams vivid to the point that even once he’s sitting up, running a hand through his hair, he can still smell the forest, feel the air through his—fur? Pelt? He isn’t sure, he just knows it’s hair of some sort. He isn’t sure what woke him, but he can almost remember something from the dream, masked faces closing in on him, the sky lit up with the light of the moon.

Deciding to move on from the odd Animagus dream, which have been coming more often as they get closer to actually becoming Animagi, he stretches. There’s a wonderful ache in his muscles from all the extra Quidditch practice he’s been doing. Yawning, he runs his hands down his arms, delighting in the definition he feels.

He’ll have to show Sirius—again—when he gets back from detention. And Peter, when he gets back from hanging out with his girlfriend. Remus, at least, is in the dorm with James, but not because he wants to—he’s hurt again.

James has no idea what’s going on with Moony, but whatever it is, it’s caused him to lash out terribly since the very first. Apparently, the walls of the Shack were shredded overnight, and as a result, Remus's fingers are busted once again, the tips bruised under the nails and torn open all over. They’re ugly, in a sort of interesting and revolting way, and every time one of them looks at it, they grimace in sympathy pains. James can’t imagine going through it himself. He doesn’t think he’d like to lose the use of his hands.

Scratching at his bare leg, he looks down at his lap, covered by boxer-briefs, and considers using the mostly-alone time to his advantage. 

No, he thinks with a grin. He would definitely like to keep his hands.

But first, he knows, he should check on Remus.

The third full moon of fifth-year has just passed, and last month had been just as bad as this one. They’d had to take up their duties again since Remus injured his wrist somehow and it’d been splinted for a few days. It’d been much the same as always, though the new addition—the dick holding duty—had been heavy in James’s mind as he did Moony’s homework. Apparently, it had happened again, Sirius crawling into Remus’s bed and jerking him off.  _ Twice _ , if Sirius is to be believed. Recalling the blush on his friends's faces, James thinks it’s very likely indeed.

He’s vaguely wondering about this—if he’ll ever have to help that way—when he gets out of his bed, passes Sirius's, and makes it to Remus's. He’s not really expecting it to be needed, though he knows since it’s after dinner, Remus will probably need help using the bathroom. 

“Remus?” He calls as he gets close, but doesn’t wait for any acknowledgment before he starts tugging the curtains back.

Remus grabs the hangings and stops them before they can get too far, sticking his head and shoulders out but hiding everything else. His face tightens as he does it, in the way that means pain  _ and  _ embarrassment rather one or the other, and he says, “James—”

“Oi, watch the fingers,” James interrupts, shaking the curtains.  “Don’t make them worse on the  _ curtains _ . That’d just be dumb.”

Though he can’t see for sure, James thinks he lets go. In any case, the tension in the fabric loosens. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “What’d you want?”

“I just woke up from my nap, thought I’d see if you needed any help with anything.”

Remus's face erupts with a blush, one that spreads to his ears and shoulders, too. James watches it deepen, a familiar warm lurch in his stomach.

“Um.” He breathes in, a little shaky, but meets James's eyes head-on. “I—I understand if you’d rather not, but I’m—I’ve got an—”

“Oh,” James says. His thoughts from earlier return with a vengeance as he realizes what Remus means. Looks like he’ll have a chance after all. 

Already a bit interested, his body reacts as, unbidden, images of being in the bed with his friend come to mind.

“—and I would just ask Sirius since he’s already helped me with this before, but he won’t be back until late and it kind of hurts? But if you’d rather not—”

James shakes his head, and firmly interrupts, “I’ll help.”

Remus bites his lip, then—being careful of his fingers—pushes the curtains open enough that James can slip in. He flops down beside Remus's thighs, which are under the top sheet. James considers his friend for a moment, grinning at the way Remus squirms under his gaze. It’s always fun to make people nervous.

Realizing he isn’t sure how different this will be from rubbing one off alone—a routine he has down pat—he asks, “How do you and Sirius do this?”

Remus swallows hard. “He usually just puts his hand under the blanket.”

“Can I?” James asks, and at Remus's nod, he leans forward a little, not lifting the coverings as he slides his hand under.  _ So far so good _ , he thinks, slowly reaching for where Remus is already bare. Though there’s no indication he wants him to stop, he pauses. “Wait. Can I jerk off too?”

“W-what?” Remus blinks at him, already a bit flushed in a different way. “You want to?”

“Well, I was going to anyway, and this is hot,” James says, enjoying how his bluntness seems to shock Remus a bit. He’s chubbing up, the thought of actually touching someone other than himself making him feel a little lightheaded.

Remus gives him his usual ‘Please Don’t Be Fucking With Me’ glance before clearing his throat, trying—and failing—to clear his expression. “Alright.”

Assured, James takes Remus in his hand, and smirks at the gasp it elicits. For a few minutes, he focuses on his friend, pulling out tricks he thinks Sirius might not know. 

But seeing Remus writhe on the bed, his hips lifting as James's hand comes down, hearing him moan, “ _ Faster _ ,” is too much for him. He slips his other hand into his pants, gripping himself. It takes a moment to match up the rhythm, a moment in which Remus gazes at him, eyes intense in a very new and very arousing way.

James's own eyes slip shut, and he doesn’t open them again until several minutes later, when Remus is laying on his back, panting, and James's hands are both sticky with release.

* * *

The thing is—Lily doesn’t watch the four boys for no reason. She’s friends, after all, with Remus Lupin, and people look at their friends from time to time. The other three, however, require the constant awareness of everyone around them, lest some poor innocent get sucked into one of their ridiculous pranks.

Lily is sitting across the room from them in Potions class, in between Severus and Mary. And the “them”, in this case, is only Remus—whose hands are covered in bandages—and James—who’s diligently doing the work Remus can’t. Sirius is probably skipping class, and she thinks Peter might be ill. Or maybe Peter is skipping, and Sirius is ill. Either way, they’re not around. She doubts the two who are will be doing anything stupid this period, but even if they did, she would be safe from it sitting so far away.

But she’s still looking.

There’s something different today. It’s not that one of them is hurt, particularly Remus—they’re usually in varying states of injured, and seeing as it was a full moon only a few days ago, it’s obvious what happened to him.

But James? She can’t put her finger on it. 

Really, she doesn’t know him that well. There have been a few moments in the Common Room, or in the Great Hall or library, where he’s acted like a normal person and she’s been able to see slivers of who he is under all the pratty-ness. Or rather, who he is when he’s not professing his love for her for all to hear. 

With his friends, he’s boisterous and attention seeking, but if he actually tries, good at schoolwork. It’s obvious how comfortable he is with them, his arms always over their shoulders, always flinging himself into their arms with the force of a train. Alone, he’s quiet, with either pinpoint focus or a very studious-appearing daydream face. Lily has never been able to tell which one it is.

It’s not just James, it’s Remus too. He loosens up with the other boys, not forgoing his work but not paying quite as much attention to it as usual. But now… James isn’t alone, but he’s quiet. And Remus is hardly paying attention at all.

All this to say: they’re acting different.

“Lily,” Mary says, hushed. She doesn’t look at Sev, but that’s no surprise. All of Lily’s friends in Gryffindor ask why she’s still friends with him, and avoid him whenever they possibly can. “I think we should put some more roots of Asphodel in here. Look at it, it’s the wrong color.”

Lily analyzes it quickly, looking to Sev’s to compare. He has a partner—one of the Slytherin boys in their year—but she knows he’s done all the work himself. Sure enough, their color is way off.

“Here.” She grabs the leftover bits of the roots, and holds it up over the cauldron while Mary stirs. Pouring in just a tiny amount is enough to have it on the right track, and with the next ingredient added, it’s looking perfect if she does say so herself.

“Want me to stir now?” She offers. Mary nods gratefully, so Lily takes her place, turning counter-clockwise and closely counting twenty-three turns.

The whole time, she’s stealing glances at Remus and James. 

What could it be? They’re standing close, but they always are. Those boys wouldn’t know personal space if it beat them in a duel. It’s not the way that their heads are nearly touching over the cauldron, or the way that Remus isn’t working. Maybe it’s that James is actually trying to do it correctly?

She ponders that for a while, pausing only to let Mary take up the next steps. But before long, she realizes that that can’t be it either. She’s seen him do work before, and this isn’t that different just because he’s not alone this time.

Sev clears his throat, and when she looks over, he’s making his annoyed face, glancing at Remus and James, then back to her. She rolls her eyes at him, pointedly looking over to them long enough to catch James's eye. He beams, his goofy familiar grin—which eases the oddness a bit, but not enough—and when he catches sight of Severus, he nudges Remus, murmuring something right into the other boy’s ear.

Remus peeks at them, long enough for Lily to turn her attention back to Mary. She doesn’t look at them again—at least, not long enough for Sev to notice again.

Fifteen minutes before class ends, Remus asks to leave, needing to use the loo. Slughorn waves a hand, granting his permission without paying much attention—until James stands up as well.

Slughorn looks between them critically. “Mr. Potter—”

“We’ll be right back, Prof,” James says, unconcerned with the way everyone is looking at them. He guides Remus towards the door, his hand on his back. He seems cool as cucumber, but Remus flushes, tucking his head down.

“That’s odd,” Mary says once they’re gone. “I’ve never seen them act that co-dependent before. Usually it’s James and Sirius, not Remus.”

“Probably off to wreak havoc on the toilets,” Severus snorts, actually speaking to Mary without contempt for once. Or, well, without contempt for  _ her _ .

Lily’s not thinking about either of those things. She’s thinking about why James would have to go with Remus—about the bandages around Remus's fingers, and how it must be impossible to undo buttons with them in the way. She’s thinking about Remus with his pants down—James touching him—and wonders what’d it feel like, doing that for a mate.

She knows she wouldn’t do it for Severus, absolutely not. She loves him like a brother, and it’d be just too weird. But Remus? Her cheeks tinge pink. Maybe she’d do it for him.

“Lily? You alright?” Mary asks, tucking a few strands of Lily’s hair behind her ear. 

“Fine,” she says, smiling and hoping her thoughts aren’t obvious. “Let’s finish up here.”

* * *

Sirius leans back in his chair, rolling his neck. After a few moments, his eyes feeling heavy and his head feeling stuffed full of words from the various textbooks spread out in front of him, he says, “Think I’m gonna head up now.”

“Alright,” Peter says distractedly, not looking up from the Transfiguration book. He’s on his second or third re-read of the assigned chapters, determined to pass their upcoming test.

Sirius huffs through a smile but doesn’t press. He grabs his stuff and shoves it all in his bag, bidding Peter and the other students in the Common Room a goodnight. A few, including Peter and Lily, return the words, but that’s it.

Not that he minds—he’s got a bit of a headache and is more than ready to fall into his bed and sleep for as long as possible. 

He tiptoes quietly into the dorm, but when he sees a light from with Remus's curtains, he realizes he should probably check on his friend before he’s out for the night. Silently, he sets his bag on his mattress, standing between his and Remus's bedframes. Closer now, he can hear Remus inside—little hitching noises that are intimately familiar now, and immediately have him feeling a bit off balance.

It was the fourth full moon of the semester a few days past, and for the fourth time in a row, Remus's hands have suffered from the wolf trying to get free.

Sirius knows he must be trying to get off in there. Though he still isn’t too sure about it—he’s tried a few times by himself, and it was…fine. He doesn’t understand why everyone loves to do it so much—he’s used to Remus needing to do it a few times before and after a full moon. Not that they’ve ever helped him before a moon—it’s just that, after accidentally interrupting a few times, they’ve gotten better about how the days preceding his transformations affect him, and steer clear when his curtains are closed. 

Having seen—or, well, felt—everything before, Sirius pokes his head in, witty remark on his tongue about how Remus shouldn’t risk his fingers when Sirius is more than willing to help.

But James is there. On the bed, one hand moving over Remus's lap, the other holding his own prick—bare to the world, what with his pants pulled down a bit on his thighs. Sirius’s eyes are immediately drawn there. It’s the first one he’s seen hard, other than his own, but there’s something different about this whole situation, and it has him frozen in place.

Remus notices him after a moment, blinking and pushing his messy hair out of his face. “Sirius,” he says, voice hitching. 

It’s like a blast through him, reverberating in his very being. Remus has never said his name…  _ during _ , before. And certainly not like that.

But before he can ruminate on it anymore, James chuckles briefly. “You can s-stay, we’re almost done—”

Sirius doesn’t bother replying, flinging the curtains back into place and retreating into his own bed.

He’s used to hearing Remus like that, used to the way it makes his body shiver and his fingers tingle. He runs a hand over his face, noticing he’s breathing a bit roughly, but he can’t begrudge himself that. Because now he knows what James sounds like—and that warm pit in his stomach is flaring ever hotter.

* * *

They share an embarrassed grin before James leaves the cocoon of Remus's bed. Well, Remus is embarrassed, somehow, but James isn’t really. Sirius has seen it all before, and he knows the deal here, why they were doing it. 

“Will—will you just talk to him? Make sure he’s not going to go all weird and shut down on us,” Remus asks after they’re done, while James is cleaning them both up.

“Of course I will,” he says, even though he’s tired and wants to sleep and doesn’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of. “I’ll make sure he’s doing okay. Now, you get some rest.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine, Moony,” James says, patting his leg a few times. “You’ll see in the morning.”

“Okay,” Remus mumbles, giving in. “Thanks again, James.”

“My pleasure, trust me,” he says, and they both laugh.

But in the fresher air of their dorm, James wonders if maybe he should be worried about Sirius's reaction. He still isn’t sure what’s going on with his best friend, who participates in even fewer conversations about sex than Remus and Peter do. He can’t be squeamish about it, can he? It makes sense, in a way, but then how does he handle helping Remus out?

No, he doesn’t feel embarrassed. But there is something going on, he thinks, and it’s time they talk.

He takes a few steps over to Sirius's bed, and slaps the curtains in warning before climbing in. Immediately, he falls on top of Sirius, who’s laying with his head near the foot of the frame. “Whoa!”

“James! Get your arse out of my face!”

“Sorry, sorry!” James rights himself, flinging half of his body over Sirius's. Despite all the weirdness, Sirius wraps him up in his arms like they’ve done since they were just kids, his icicle feet tucking between James's warmer calves. 

“So…,” James says at the same time Sirius starts, “I—”

Together, they say, “You first.”

Sirius shuts his mouth then with an audible click, and James doesn’t bother offering again, knowing Sirius won’t budge until James has said his piece.

“So,” James tries again. Best not to hesitate before taking flight. “That happened.”

“Yeah.”

“And you seem pretty spooked,” he continues once it’s clear Sirius isn’t going to add to that. “And we wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Sirius inhales a little too sharply. “We? Who’s we? You and Remus?”

“Well, yeah. And I can see that he was right to worry. C’mon, are you okay? You don’t have to feel too embarrassed, I don’t and you already know all about what we were doing—”

“I don’t, though,” Sirius interrupts. He doesn’t look at James when he says, “I  _ don’t  _ know.”

“Okay.” James presses his forehead to Sirius's shoulder, peeking up but mostly content for now to have this conversation without eye-contact. He knows Sirius sometimes feels better that way. “What don’t you know, then? I’ll tell you about it.”

Sirius sighs. And then is quiet for a long enough time that they hear Peter come up, drop his stuff on his bed, and hurry to the loo.

“I just… don’t understand,” Sirius says in a whisper. “Why you were touching yourself too.”

James ponders how to answer this. He isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe Sirius still isn’t wanking, not like the rest of them in any case. He’s not judging, of course he’s not, but he does wonder if it’s because of something to do with his sexuality, rather than puberty. James isn’t very aware of all the different sexualities, just that they exist—his Mum explained them before he first went off to Hogwarts, and his Dad had told him it’s always best to be accepting of others when it comes to things like this. 

James is pretty sure that policy doesn’t extend to people like Snivellous, but he doesn’t want to think about him right now. Not while he’s cuddling with Sirius, and trying to explain how, exactly, he gets off on helping Remus out.

“Well… have you ever looked at a dirty mag?”

“Of course I have,” Sirius says, “You showed it to me.” Suddenly, James can hear another note in his voice, one he hadn’t heard before—defensiveness.

A bit of excitement wells in him at the thought of pushing at that defense, seeing how far it’ll bend. Bluntly, he asks, “Did it make you hard?”

“Wh-what? Did it make me—yes, it did, not that that’s any of your—”

“It’s okay if it didn’t,” James backtracks briefly. He wants to push, but not if it’s going to cause that much anxiety. “But that’s the point, okay? You see something hot, you get hard. It’s normal.”

“Normal?” His voice wobbles, the smallest inflection at the beginning of the word, but James hears it. He sits up, and looks at his best friend, finding him biting his lip.

“Yeah. When I see someone sexy, or I’m in a sexual situation like I am when I help Remus rub one out, it gets me hot. That’s normal for me, and for a lot of people, but not everyone.”

Sirius sighs, throwing his arm over his eyes and hiding his face. “You’re not making any sense!”

“What’s not making sense, here?”

“Last time we talked about this, you said it was normal to get hard, and you’re saying it again now. But then you say it’s normal not to! I don’t understand!”

“It’s normal for me to get hard. But it might be normal for you to not.”

Sirius makes a groaning whine sound, still refusing to come out of the shelter of his arm.

“Does it not make you feel turned on, to help him?” He asks tentatively. “I know some people would find it weird, since Moony is a boy, but….”

“It’s not that,” Sirius says.

James waits, but there’s nothing else forthcoming, clearly.

After a while, during which Peter comes back and goes to bed, the room settling around them, James throws one of his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna sleep, okay? Try not to worry about this too much. It’s just to take care of Remus. Just something we’re doing for a friend. And anyway, you have time to figure yourself out, okay?”

That doesn’t seem to make Sirius feel any better. He jokingly pushes James, and returns, “Goodnight, Jamie,” but in the morning, he’s quiet and won’t look at James or Remus.

He wonders if there’ll be more awkwardness during the next full moon, but it goes a little better, most of the injuries centered around Remus's chest as the streak finally breaks, and the full moon after that, they’ve finally, finally mastered the art of Animagery.

Before they leave for the summer, James finds the list of Taking Care of Remus duties. He stuffs it in his pocket, hoping—believing—they won’t ever need to use it again.


	3. keep with me in the moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i posting this almost a month later at 1 am? yes. sorry.
> 
> mentioned abuse but nothing too bad

James has always enjoyed cuddling with Sirius. In their dorm, whenever one of them has nightmares, it’s a given that they’ll climb into the other’s bed, finding solace and comfort in not being alone. James used to think Sirius was lucky, having a brother—someone to help fend off the loneliness from childhood, something James had only his elderly parents to turn to with. A brother seemed like everything he could ever want back then, and something he would never have. But these days—this summer, between fifth and sixth years—he’s realized there are relationships— _ people _ —better than brothers. Chosen family, ones who make you feel less alone, who will always support you even if they aren’t blood-related.

Sirius is more than a brother to James. Sirius’s mere presence is enough to make him feel better most of the time, comforting with his familiarness. They argue, of course, and there are times where James wants a break from him, wants to be alone. But he can’t imagine his life without Sirius in it, can’t imagine a future where Sirius is anything other than what he is now—brave and reckless, mean sometimes but loyal to the bone, more accepting and open-minded than his entire family combined. Always right beside James, where he belongs, safe and everything James could ever want in a best friend.

James clenches his jaw, careful not to adjust his grip around Sirius’s middle too much. They’re in the bed in the guest room next to James’s, chest to chest, and Sirius’s head is tucked down into the crook of his neck. He’s sleeping, which is most of what he’s been doing in the days since he arrived, healing up from the torture his parents—his mother, curse her name—put him through.

Mum and Dad say it’s normal for him to sleep so much. It’s rejuvenating, a way to give his mind a rest and time to heal as long as he takes his Sleeping Draught before he falls asleep.

James hasn’t left Sirius’s side except to use the loo and to cry into Mum’s arms a few times, overwhelmed with everything. He makes sure Sirius never misses a dose of any of the potions they’re giving him, keeping meticulous track of what’s taken and when. It only took one nightmare—and getting slapped in the face as Sirius flailed and screamed trying to wake up—for him to take over taking care of his best friend.

It’s pretty easy to use what he’s learned from helping Moony and apply it to Sirius. The class-related tasks like copying notes and doing homework aren’t necessary, but the others definitely are. He’s helped feed Sirius, has helped him hobble to the bathroom once, and most of all, he’s been trying desperately to distract him. Remus and Peter help with that, writing back and forth with them about everything but the important—relevant, and stressful, and scary—things. 

James reads them aloud, and Sirius can usually muster a weak giggle at all of their friends’ antics. It’s distracting for James too, which he’s intensely grateful for. Remus sends some letters to James alone, asking for more details and any updates he can give, all of them written with a much more serious tone.

He pets Sirius’s hair, running gentle fingers through it as he considers when he’ll be able to write back. Maybe after supper, he’ll ask Dad to sit with Sirius for a while so he can go to his room and do it. Alone, he’ll be able to tell Remus everything, not the watered-down version Sirius would surely try to sell. Not that Moony wouldn’t be able to see through it anyway.

As he’s thinking, Sirius makes a small noise in the back of his throat. James notices immediately, and pauses, unsure if it’s a regular dream or another nightmare. Sirius frowns slightly, his brows furrowing. He edges even further into James’s personal space—not that he has much anyway, but he isn’t complaining—and makes another noise, a quiet little whine.

_ Nightmare _ , James thinks decisively, moving his hand to Sirius’s shoulder, ready to wake him up or push him away if necessary. He doesn’t want to be hit again if he can help it.

But then, before he can—Sirius’s leg slips out from between James’s, bending and sliding over top of James’s thigh, pulling their hips together. Sirius is only in his pants and a borrowed shirt, his bare skin warm through James’s thin pajama bottoms. Really, his whole body is warm, but one specific area catches James’s attention.

He’s hard, his erection pressing against James’s hip insistently.

James breathes in shakily, a wave of arousal flying through him and pinpointing straight to his own cock. Other than Remus, he’s never had sex with another person—and isn’t even really sure if he should consider helping Remus to be sex. And while he’s certainly had dreams of both of his friends (not to mention Lily!) before, dreams where he was pressed close to their bodies, moving in tandem…. Well, he never thought it would ever come to fruition.

Except right now, it could. 

But he thinks, maybe, that he shouldn’t just…go for it. Sirius might not want to do anything, considering everything that’s going on and also the fact that, as far as James last heard, he doesn’t seem very interested in sex anyway. James can’t imagine not being interested in it, can’t imagine looking at Lily and not finding her devastatingly attractive, or touching Remus and not feeling the pressing urge to make him come. But he doesn’t wonder what it means that Sirius is hard—in one of Mum’s books about sexuality, it said that bodies can react physically even if the mind doesn’t agree. That just because someone  _ seems  _ aroused, doesn’t automatically mean they want to do things.

Which is all leading to one conclusion: James should wake Sirius up.

He curls his fingers in the fabric of the borrowed shirt, just about to do it when he realizes how awkward Sirius might feel to wake up, hard, and James able to feel all of it (and the other way around, he realizes with some embarrassment). Maybe he could just scoot back? He attempts it, hissing at the way their lengths brush against each other, but Sirius makes a sleepy noise and clutches him tightly. Not gonna happen, then.

Steeling his resolve, he gently shakes Sirius awake. It takes a moment for him to blink his eyes open, and another few for clarity to come. He peeks down their bodies, where they’re still pressed together, and he blushes in a way James rarely sees. Attempting to shift his hips back only succeeds in making it clear how turned on James is feeling, thin fabric sliding together over warm skin.

“James?” He pulls away only enough for space to shiver between them, their legs still entwined. “W-what—?”

“You, uh.” James’s voice is shockingly rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “You started pressing up against me and I felt— _ that _ —so I thought I should wake you up before—”

Sirius looks down at himself again, his flush spreading all the way to his ears when he sees the obscenely tented boxer-briefs. “Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

Even knowing it was the right thing to do, embarrassment wells up inside of him. “I’m sorry, I’ll—I can go?”

“No,” Sirius blurts, swiftly looking up and meeting James’s eyes. There’s a bleary kind of lust there that James has never seen before—but he recognizes the accompanying desperate loneliness all too well. “No, stay.”

“Okay,” James says, breathless. He brushes his hand on Sirius’s bare side, the shirt tucked up around his ribs. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Sirius smiles, a little tremulously. For all that James hasn’t been able to leave his side, Sirius hasn’t tried to shoo him away yet. People are always joking that they’re co-dependent, and these past few days have only proven it. 

Awkwardly, Sirius reaches down to adjust himself. He hisses pleasurably, and James’s cock twitches at the sound. A flash of memory hits him—Remus’s moans, the way James’s body reacts every time. From it, an idea forms, one that he doesn’t bother to sit on much. This is Sirius, after all. It’s nearly impossible to feel uncomfortable around him. Even if Sirius doesn’t want to do it, he knows it’ll be okay. Know  _ they’ll  _ be okay.

“I’ll try to—uh, how do you get this to go down?” Sirius pouts, his eyebrows cringed together.

“Think of Slughorn naked,” he replies solemnly. “But, Sirius… if you want… I could jerk you off?”

Sirius swallows hard. He lifts his left hand, where only the faintest hints of busted knuckles—from punching a wall during the initial argument with his mother, apparently—still show. They both peer at it, the only sound their anticipatory breaths. Meeting James’s eyes again, he says, “Looks pretty injured to me.”

“Bad enough I should take dick holding duty?” James doesn’t look away, his heart and lungs in his throat. This feels different, in a way, from what he’s done with Remus. Those circumstances are real—this one is only a pretense. But they’re still going along with it.

“I think so,” Sirius says, his flush a deep, enticing pink.

James nods, biting his lip. His hand, still on Sirius’s side, slips down to his stomach, where he brushes the backs of his fingers against the warm skin, the black trail of hair leading down into his pants. “Have you still not—?”

“A few times,” Sirius admits, keeping his gaze trained on James’s hand. “But it’s never felt like this before.”

“Yeah? Felt like what?” With that, he draws his fingers lower, along the edge where flesh meets fabric. Sirius gasps as he dips under it, tangling his fingers in the hair there.

“Interesting,” Sirius laughs. “Like I actually want to keep going. Hnn, don’t tease.”

James laughs too, delighted and relieved to hear Sirius happy again after days of crying and screaming and silence. Not bothering to reply, he slips his hand down all the way.

* * *

Sirius comes pressing his face to James’s bare chest, his breath puffing hot against James’s goose-bumped skin. He doesn’t move hardly at all to let James take care of himself, and falls asleep like that, wrapped around James like an octopus.

His dreams are vague, a lingering edge of fear hiding just over the side of the bed he and dream-James are in. He attempts to sit up, to look over and see what it is, but James pulls him back down, whispering, “I’ve got you, Siri, I’m right here.”

When he wakes up, memories of what happened hit him, a hot blush building in his cheeks. Did they really do that? He doesn’t regret it, but he isn’t sure how to feel or what to think. He’s never come before except a few times in his sleep, never felt that euphoria or the come-down or the lingering afterglow. It was wonderful but new, so different from the few times Sirius has touched himself. He wonders if it’s always like that, what made it different with James compared to when he’s alone. He wonders if he’s  _ normal _ .

Glancing at James’s sleeping face, he’s reminded of Remus. Is how Sirius felt—surrounded, comforted, hot and hollowed out—is that how he feels when James touches him?

A spike of jealousy shoots through him, but he isn’t sure who, exactly, he’s jealous of.

Before he can think about it anymore—not that he really wants to—James snorts himself awake. He flails a little, and Sirius scooches back before James’s knee can hit anything soft.

“Oi!” He says, probably much too loud.

“Padfoot?” James mumbles, opening his eyes. “Wha—oh.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Sirius takes in the familiar sleepy expression, the wrinkles from the pillow imprinted on his brown skin, the way his hair is flopping messily into his face. He remembers his dream, and before that, James’s laugh, deeper than he’d ever heard it—except when he was in bed with Moony the one time Sirius caught them. He remembers the feeling of James touching him, curling into him as he came between their bodies.

Is  _ this  _ how Remus feels? Like he’s not stepped right past the line of friendship, but vaulted over it, screaming all the while, “Fuck the line!” Because Sirius feels a little like that, and he isn’t sure what to do with it.

“How are you feeling?” James asks, relaxing into the mattress. 

_ Confused. Concerned. Like I want to cling to you forever. Like maybe I should go before I fuck this friendship up permanently. _ He doesn’t say any of that. He says, “Hungry,” and the tension he hadn’t realized was in his body releases when James laughs.

* * *

The next day, they do it again. Sirius pinches his knuckles until they’re red when he thinks James isn’t looking, and he asks, “Prongs, would you mind helping me out again?”

James does, and then he does it a third time before they go to bed, touching himself that time as Sirius falls asleep next to him. He tries not to think while they do it, just wanting to get lost in the sensation of it, but in the back of his mind, he knows that they can’t—shouldn’t—keep doing this. That they need to talk about it. He’s not scared of talking—he knows that he and James are going to be friends forever, that nothing can come between them, not even sex. He’s pretty sure he won’t be kicked out, and he’s positive that none of the Potters are going to hit or curse or hex him. 

But still. It’s much easier to just…push the thoughts away while they’re in the throes, and not too difficult to ignore them long enough to fall asleep after. And trying to do it after that is just…not the right time.

It’ll never feel like the right time, he argues with himself in the morning, laying beside James still. There might be a time where it’ll feel better, but even then, there’s only so long they can keep up this charade. 

And there’s something else. Something he tries to pretend isn’t happening, that the feeling—the  _ want _ —isn’t welling up inside of him, doomed to explode.

He wants to kiss James.

Kissing has never seemed particularly interesting to him. The few times he’s tried it, it was boring and over rather quickly, often with the girl running off with hurt feelings. But now he’s thinking about the kids at school, and how they sometimes block up hallways with their snogging, looking dazed and red-lipped. Even Peter likes it.

It’s clear to him that there’s something wrong on his end. Or maybe it’s just who he tried it with.

He thinks maybe James could show him how it’s supposed to feel. He did it with sex, after all. Sirius can finally understand a bit better why everyone is so crazy about it, and it feels good to be in the know. The logical next step would be snogging—except that Remus has never snogged either one of them. And if what they’ve done with him is friendly, and they haven’t snogged… that can only really mean that kissing is over the line of friendship. 

Sirius looks across from him to where James is slowly waking up. Without his glasses, he looks different, softer and sleep-rumpled. He looks…beautiful. Kissable. Like the face of someone who Sirius trusts with his entire being, with his heart and his feelings and his body and his future and just. Everything. He looks like Sirius’s best friend.

Fuck the line, he thinks.

* * *

James wakes up to Sirius staring rather intently at him. Unsure what time it is, he blinks in the faint light and decides it’s best to get up—just in case Sirius needs something or wants to talk. He hasn’t wanted to yet, and James isn’t about to push him, but he wants to be ready for it. Whether they talk about his family, or the sex, or something else. He’s going to be ready.

“Hey, Siri,” he mumbles, eyes dragging closed before he forces them back open. “You alright?”

Sirius hums distractedly. “James? Can I try something?”

That brings a little more clarity to James, and he sits up a bit, his elbow holding up his weight. He loves trying new things, especially with Sirius. Though he’s feeling concerned, there’s still a bit of excitement in him, curiosity for what they’re going to do. It’s always there when they’re together. “Yeah, of course. What’s—”

Sirius leans forward then, his hand coming to hold the back of James’s neck, his fingers spreading out and tucking themselves in his hair. And then he closes the space between them, tilting his head and kissing James right on the mouth. 

It feels different from the kisses James has shared with other people—Sirius is hesitant in a way, lips moving against his own like he isn’t sure what he’s doing. But his determination is obvious by how he leans forward even more, edging James back against the pillows a bit.

James opens his mouth under Sirius’s instinctively, interestedly, a little gasp slipping out.

Sirius jolts back at the sound, his eyes wide and wild. “Ja—Jamie. I’m sorry, I know kissing is too much, I know that’s not what we’re doing, I just couldn’t help myself—you’re just so—I wanted to try—”

“Pads,” James says, reaching out to grasp the side of his face. He meets his eyes, and there are so many thoughts running through his head that nothing sticks. Nothing, that is, except that he wants to kiss him again. Badly. “Shut up.”

This time, it’s him who leans in, who kisses Sirius and controls it, having a bit more experience. And he’s thought, before, about what kissing Sirius could be like. Daydreamed about it, about how Sirius would taste and sound. Feverish images of what he can do—of what he’s been wanting to do—flit through his mind. He pushes Sirius backward, and they land on the bed, James pressing as close to his body as he can. 

But then Sirius whines, a short little sound that’s clearly not of pleasure but pain.

James pushes himself up and looks down at his best friend, feeling utterly unraveled in the best of ways.

“M’fine,” Sirius says, his hand tugging at James’s shirt. “We should—”

“—talk,” James finishes for him. He won’t force the issue about Sirius’s family. But he can’t ignore this, doesn’t want to. He needs to know where Sirius’s head is at, and if this can become a more common occurrence. Merlin, he hopes so.

* * *

“Okay,” Sirius says, giving in easily, his head full of fluff from the snogging, which is everything his peers make it out to be and more. “Talking. Yes. Okay.”

James sits back on his heels, keeping his weight off of Sirius for the most part. But he’s still hovering closely, his hair a little messy and his eyes a little wide. “So,” he starts like he always does, charging forward without any hesitation. “That happened.”

Sirius huffs out a laugh. He doesn’t think James is upset, thinks maybe that was good for him too and—well, he isn’t sure what’s about to happen. But he’s pretty sure they’ll be okay.

He’s feeling confident when he meets James’s eyes. “Yeah, it did.”

They look at each other for a long time, unsure of what to do or say next. Where to take this, if they should keep allowing the forward momentum, or stop it in its tracks.

But then Sirius says, “You’re really bloody good at that,” and James laughs, squinting down at him.

“Well, thank you. You’re quite good as well for someone who’s never snogged before.”

“Maybe we could keep doing it,” Sirius suggests, deciding not to clarify he has too snogged before. It doesn’t matter—none of them were anywhere near as good as James. “For practice.”

James grins. He always looks like the cat that got the canary, but now especially the expression is taking over his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “We could. It’d be a good use of our time, anyway.”

A thought comes to Sirius, then, and without thinking too much on it, he sits up on his elbows. “You know,” he starts, his heart speeding up, some of his confidence leaving even as he presses on. “We spend so much time together, it’s almost like we’re dating already. Don’t you think?”

“I could see that,” James says, pretending to ponder it. “We eat together, we live together, we share the same bed sometimes. All we’d have to add, really, would be kissing. And I think we’ve just proven we both enjoy it.”

“Yes, definitely,” Sirius agrees. Thoughts about what he wants to say next swirl around his head too quickly for him to grab onto one, so he just blurts, “Sex too.”

James peers at him, a serious expression on his face. “Only if you want.”

Does he want that? He offered, but chews on his lip as he thinks about it. If what they’ve been doing is sex—and he thinks it is, even if they weren’t kissing while they were getting off—then he’s perfectly fine with it happening again. Remembering it—James’s hand on his cock, their breaths mingling, pleasure sparking in his spine and curling in his toes—makes it very clear to him. He wants more, as soon as possible preferably.

But it’s hard to be so bold right now. This is James, and it’s impossible to be scared of him or how he’ll react to something, but sex is still a bit daunting. Even for Sirius Black, who is maybe possibly no longer a virgin. (Do handjobs count? Does that mean Remus lost his virginity to him?) 

“I think I do.”

James grins. “Okay, then that’s only two things. I guess everyone was right when they said we’re co-dependent, huh?”

Huffing a laugh, Sirius says, “We already knew that one.”

“Well, yeah,” James concedes. He shifts so he’s laying down again, mostly not on top of Sirius but tangling their legs together again. “But just think. We can have…  _ everything _ . All the pranks and cuddles and detention, and we can go on dates, and we can keep kissing….”

James trails off a moment, like he’s lost in thought, before getting back into stride, already planning for dates in Hogsmeade that make Sirius’s mouth break, uncontrollably, into a bright smile. A day at Zonko’s, and the Three Broomsticks, and Merlin, even Madam Puddifoot’s, plus all the other shops sounds perfect, a giddy feeling blooming in his chest as he pictures it.  It’s freeing, in a way, imagining going on a date with James. So far from what his family would allow, which only makes it all the better.

Now that all these possibilities are in front of him, he realizes how badly he wants it all—the companionship they already had, but with more snogging now; and the commitment of best friends, Marauders, but with another label on top: boyfriends. It feels good, right. Like it’s meant to be. ‘Friends’ isn’t enough for them, and ‘brothers’ obviously isn’t it either. ‘Boyfriends’ is a step in the right direction.

He doesn’t really think about Remus in that moment. Other than to wonder how he’ll react, hoping—no,  _ knowing  _ Moony will be nothing but happy for them. He doesn’t think about what he and James have been doing with him, just assumes they’ll keep doing it if Remus ever needs. As long as they aren’t kissing, it’s just friendly, right?

(Another stab of jealousy comes, thinking about James touching Remus, getting off with him. But Sirius doesn’t want to stop doing it either, doesn’t want to never be able to touch his friend again. Doesn’t want to leave him hanging, without Sirius  _ or  _ James to help. That wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be kind. And maybe, if they’re both helping, it won’t feel so— _ he _ won’t feel so—)

But he does think about Lily. James has only been fantasizing about taking  _ her  _ on dates to Hogsmeade for months. He’s only been claiming to be in love with her, and following her around like a lost puppy, and trying to impress her, for months.

“James?” He interrupts, a pit forming in his stomach that leaves him feeling… irritated and insulted. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to feel this way about James, especially not now when things are just coming together.

“Yeah, Siri?”

James is still grinning, eyes alight with future plans and the wonderful brightness of kissing. He looks happy, and some nasty part of Sirius hopes he’s not thinking about Lily at all right now. But Sirius himself can’t forget, and won’t let them go any further without figuring this out.

Sirius sits up, ignoring the lingering twinges of hurt in his body. He can’t hide the edge to his voice when he asks, “What about Lily?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like I should say this:  
> Sirius’s experiences with sex and sexuality are not universal. He doesn’t understand sexualities and doesn’t understand why he enjoys sex with James, but wouldn’t with any random person. He doesn’t know that, because he has feelings for James and Remus, that’s why it’s enjoyable to him, where it never seemed interesting before. ~~He doesn't even realize he has feelings for Remus.~~  
>  There is no "normal", no goal to look to when it comes to sexuality. I've written him questioning these things and feeling this way in part because of the time period, and in part because he's never been educated on these things. He's not done learning and figuring things out about himself.
> 
> i also wanted to add, thank you so much for the kind comments! i'm sorry i haven't replied yet (i'm going to try to in the morning). i'd love to hear your thoughts about this one -- and buckle up bc this fic is gonna be more angsty than the premise might have u believe >:)


	4. you got to keep me focused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, I'm back already. this time at four am. oops??

Lily.

Fuck.

James hasn’t been thinking about Lily the past few days. Not in depth, anyway. Usually, he daydreams about her smile, thinking of conversation topics he can bring up—Frank suggested months ago that maybe he should try and talk about things  _ she’s  _ interested in, which to James means charms and blueberries and greasy gits like Snape; not exactly great material—and replaying every rejection. His mind has been so full of Sirius in so many ways that she’s been pushed to the side with Remus and Peter and other important things, but now? With one question, Sirius has brought her back to the forefront.

He asks slowly, “What  _ about  _ Lily?” But—he knows. He has feelings for her, and it’s no secret, especially not from Sirius who, alongside the others, has heard every one of his reverent, rambling speeches. He can’t find it within himself to be embarrassed, though. His feelings for her are practically a part of him now, something fun he can focus on when he needs a break from reality.

Reality is looking pretty good right now. He and Sirius are on the edge of something life-changing and spectacular, and he wants to careen off headfirst, whooping with joy while he does it. But he doesn’t want to let go of fancying Lily—his crush isn’t just relief from everyday stress. It’s the awe he feels when she bests him in something, the difficulty of looking away from her when she pulls her hair into a bun, the way she’s always on his mind.

“Are you actually in love with her?” Sirius asks. He hates to linger on things when he could just go right to the heart of the matter. “Because if you are, I don’t know if we should be getting into a relationship.” 

“I don’t know,” James answers with some hesitation. “I don’t know what it feels like to be in love, really.” Mum has tried to explain it before, and Dad even had a go at it, but it’s still nebulous and out of reach, like something he might not ever understand. Sometimes he thinks maybe he is in love with Lily, and just doesn’t realize that’s what it is—though he always confidently says he is because it makes Sirius groan.  (And isn’t that an interesting thought? James thinks giddily. Does he react like that because he’s interested in James? Is he  _ in love _ with James?)

He doesn’t know if he’s in love with Sirius. He loves him, there’s no doubt about that, but is he  _ in  _ love? With either of them? He has no idea.

“But—” Sirius drags his hand through his hair, a habit he picked up from James. His expression is a bit pinched, and after years of learning to read him, James can tell he’s feeling confused and hurt by the way he’s pouting. “If you  _ think  _ you’re—”

“I honestly don’t know! I fancy you both, Pads, have for a long time now.” Longer than he really knows. He can remember when he started noticing Lily late in fourth year, but how long has he been thinking about Sirius like this? Forever, maybe. He sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why does it matter if I fancy her? I want to be with you.”

“Just because I’ve never had a girlfriend doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re generally not supposed to like other people like that when you’re in a relationship. You can’t love two people at once, Jamie.”

“Actually,” James starts to say, vaguely remembering something from one of Mum’s lectures, “there are people who can—”

Sirius flops onto his back, and for once in his life, the movement isn’t graceful, instead eliciting a pained breath.

Changing tacks, he moves closer, his knees pressing into Sirius’s thigh. Honestly and firmly, he says, “Listen. I wanna be with  _ you _ , Sirius. If we get together, it’s not like I’ll keep going after her and flirting with her. I’ll be doing that with you, and you only.”

“But you’ll still fancy her?”

James won’t lie to Sirius. Not about this, not about almost anything. “Yeah, probably.”

Sirius meets his eye, and they look at each other for a long moment. They’re on the edge still, and it feels like maybe they’re teetering in the wrong direction. 

Then he lays his hand on James’s thigh. A bolt of lightning shoots through him at the close contact, the warmth of Sirius’s touch. It’s grounding and sends him floating all at once.

”I need to think about this. And you do too.”

“Okay—”

“So give me some space, Prongs.” He says it as kindly as he can say anything, rubbing his thumb in a gentle but quick circle. Then he takes his hand back.

James climbs off the bed, and after spending so much time on the soft surface, cuddled together with Sirius or leaving just long enough to piss, it feels wrong. Trying to push past the feeling, he pauses in the doorway to ask, “Can I come back later?”

“You better,” Sirius says, flashing a pout before he rolls over, effectively dismissing James for the time being. It’s a familiar move; James isn’t the only one who sometimes needs alone time, after all.

He goes, then, shutting the door gently behind him.

* * *

James wanders downstairs, and with each step, more and more questions come to mind. Did all that really just happen? Has he really been having sex with Sirius? Did they really kiss, and did they really decide they want to be in a relationship, and did he really somehow forget about Lily bloody Evans?

Mum and Dad are at the table in the den, soft music filtering through the air as they play a game of wizard chess. He takes a moment to stand there just inside the room and watch, some of his anxiety slipping away as he listens to them bickering over the pieces. Sometimes his childhood was lonely without many people his age to hang around with, but they’ve always been loving, doting on him and showing him what love could really be like. When he thinks about his future, he’s always pictured himself looking like his Dad, with his partner vaguely defined but as happy as his Mum.

They notice him before he can get really lost in thought—like, who does he picture now? Sirius or Lily? How can he possibly pick? Why should he even have to?

Dad pushes his glasses up his nose, a look of concern falling over his aged features. “Alright, son?”

James considers doing what Remus always does and lying, saying he’s perfectly fine and they should get back to their game, because he doesn’t want to be a bother, and can he just lay here for a few minutes? But he doesn’t do that, because Remus is dumb and anyway, he knows his parents wouldn’t even believe it. Not while Sirius is upstairs, alone for the first time in days. Not when James has never not vented to them before.

He flings himself onto the sofa, throwing an arm over his eyes. A headache is coming on, and he thinks again,  _ Did I really forget about Lily? _ “I don’t know,” he says, muffled.

There’s a brief pause where James knows without having to look that his parents are silently communicating. It’s Mum who turns in her chair, gently asking, “What’s wrong, love? Is Sirius okay?”

“He’s fine,” James says. “Just wanted a bit of alone time, that’s all.”

“Is that what’s got you so upset, then?”

And James—he isn’t in the habit, exactly, of lying to his parents. There are some things they don’t know, some things he won’t ever tell them if he can help it—things like how Remus is a werewolf (not his secret to tell), how James and Sirius and Peter are Animagi (they’ve sworn each other to secrecy), and especially not how James has been wanking off two of his best friends. He’s pretty sure they wouldn’t care about any of these things, knows they would never tell on Remus and would only be upset about the animagery bit because they’ve done it illegally, and he knows his parents would never judge him for being interested in boys. But the words, the truth, catch in his throat. What can he tell them about all this? What should he say? Will they even understand?

“No,” he says, slowly, trying to think. “It’s just—well, you know I’ve got a crush on Lily Evans.”

His parents stay at the table, giving him space while also offering encouragement through their presence alone. They both make noises of agreement, because of course they know. They haven’t been spared his speeches either.

“Right. Well.” How can he possibly explain? Deciding to just blurt it out, he says, “I’m in love with Sirius.”

James cringes at himself the second the words are out, glad he can hide his face as his parents react. Dad says, “Huh,” and Mum stands, clasping her hands together. “Shall I get us some tea before we go any further?”

She doesn’t wait for a response from either of them, just heads off to the kitchen. A few minutes later, James is sitting, curled into the arm of the sofa with a warm mug in his hands. His parents settle now in the armchairs, closer than the table was, paying attention to him, but not hovering, thank Merlin. They wait for him to keep going, Dad giving an encouraging quirk of the mouth.

So James explains what’s happened. He leaves out many details—they don’t need to know that he’s jerked Moony off, or that he did it to Sirius too. He does tell them that he and Sirius kissed, and has to restrain himself from saying anything more than, “It was like we were always leading up to it, you know?” They hum and nod in agreement and thought as he talks about the conversation he and Sirius had just before he came downstairs.

“Am I supposed to choose?” He asks, feeling a little miserable once it’s all out. “I don’t want to. If Sirius and I get together—and I want that, I really really want it—then obviously I’d be loyal to him! It wouldn’t matter if I still have feelings for her.” And, if he’s being honest with himself, he knows Lily would probably jump for joy if he turned his attention away from her. He’s not unaware she doesn’t exactly return his feelings, but he’s just always thought that she might eventually. He’s been content to wait for eventually, and though he’s asked her out more than once, he’s not a monster. He’s never pressured her, never pushed after a rejection. 

Backing off is something he can and will do, but the feelings? They aren’t going to go away. At least, he doesn’t think so.

Dad strokes his white beard like he always does when he’s about to give advice. “I don’t know if there’s a wrong answer here, James. Sirius or Lily, Lily or Sirius, if your feelings are true then that’s what counts. And of course you’ll be loyal, you’re a good boy.”

Mum lays a hand on Dad’s on the armrest, her fingers curling around his palm. To James, she says, “Maybe think about this, dear. Do you have honest feelings for them both? Can you picture a future with either of them?”

James doesn’t answer right away, really thinking about it. Does he have honest, true feelings for them both? What does that even mean?

How does he feel about Lily? Well, he knows she’s beautiful, smart, and kind. He knows that her smile lights up a room. The few times she’s turned it on him, butterflies swooped in his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to get her to do it again, to make her happy and keep her looking at him. She’s pranked him a few times, too, and that has always felt exciting, like she was playing with him, like she was speaking his language. In class, when they get paired together (a rare occurrence), she calls him on his shit, helps him focus more on what they’re supposed to be doing. She makes him feel… calm, in a way. But there’s so much he could do with her, so much left to learn about her, and he wants that, he wants to know everything.

And he can certainly imagine a future with her—he hardly has to even think about it, because it’s something he’s pondered often. Kissing her, beaming a proud grin as she changes the world with her brains, marrying her and being her trophy husband. He’s in so deep he can imagine tucking her blanket around her for a nap, sitting in bubble baths with her, flying around while she holds his middle tight. Pete always says James is a sap, and he’s right. James has even thought about what they could name their children—he’d want to discuss with Lily, of course, but he likes the idea of Harry if they have a boy. Named for his grandpa.

But then there’s Sirius. How does he feel about Sirius? An impossible tangle of emotions well up in him at the question—companionship and exasperation and a sense of understanding that he’s never felt for anyone else before. His smiles are like a foundational brick in the statue that is James, alongside his arguments and his pranks and his snore. Ever since they were eleven years old, James has known another piece of his soul. A piece that feels as solid and real as his parents, a piece that gets his heart rate up with all the fun they have together. James knows everything about Sirius, and he revels in it like it’s a badge of honor.

As for a future with Sirius—a future  _ without  _ him is what he can’t imagine. James needs him there. He needs to have their conversations and antics and cuddles for the rest of his life. When he thinks about being an old man like his parents, he thinks about Sirius right there beside him, still rocking long hair and singing Bowie at the top of his lungs. And now that they’ve kissed? James can picture them as adults, sleeping in the same bed and snogging despite the morning breath, eating dinner together and discussing their days, running around as Padfoot and Prongs and collapsing together in a heap, laughing.

Fuck. He  _ is  _ in love with them both, isn’t he? It doesn’t feel the same, exactly, for them both, but he’s not that stupid. It’s love.

“Yeah,” he says, choked, and more of an answer to his own question than theirs. “I do, I can. And I don’t think I can choose.”

“Oh, James,” Mum sighs, not disappointed but fond, worried. “You know you don’t have to. It’s okay to feel this way. We just want to make sure you don’t get hurt, or hurt anyone else.”

James takes a sip of his tea, wondering if that’s how Sirius is feeling right now, if that’s why he wanted to be alone. Because he’s hurting, because James hurt him. On the other hand, he doesn’t think he can affect Lily with this, with how strong his feelings are or if he decides to date Sirius and stop flirting with her. 

He looks up, meeting their eyes. They both gaze back, concern and care written all over their faces. “Do you think I should be with Sirius then? Should I wait? Because I’m pretty sure none of this is gonna go away no matter what I do.”

“Do what feels right,” Dad says. It’s his standard advice, but now he adds on, “If nothing feels right, then wait until something does, don’t try to force it. And in the meantime, be honest with Sirius, tell him what’s going on in that head of yours.”

He blows air through his nose, shifting in his seat. Telling Sirius sounds a bit nervewracking. But he can see the value in honesty, and maybe it’ll make things clearer if he vents to him. “I will.” He stands, then, and is just about to go before something occurs to him. Already pretty sure of the answer, he asks, “Will he still have a place here? No matter what happens?”

“Of course,” Mum and Dad say at the same time.

Mum adds, “He’s always welcome here. He’s family.”

Overcome, James sets his tea on the table, takes a few steps to stand in front of them, and hugs them both as close as he can.

* * *

James knocks on the door of the guest bedroom without a plan in mind. He knows the main points of what he needs to say, but beyond that, he’s letting it happen naturally. And okay, so what if he’s winging it? Planning for how Sirius might react never works.

A voice inside the room calls out, and he opens the door, slipping past the frame and shutting it soundly behind him.

“That was enough time, right?”

Sirius nods. “It was for me.”

“Good, me too.”

After a brief pause, they both start talking at the same time. Sirius shuts his mouth and gestures for James to go ahead. Coming to sit at the edge of the bed, James inhales deeply, trying to settle his nerves.

“I thought about my feelings. Like, a lot. And I told Mum and Dad what’s going on—”

“You told them about the—?”

“No, no!” James laughs at the scandalized look on Sirius’s face. “No, I just told them we’d kissed and talked about our relationship, that’s all. And, well, I think I  _ do  _ love Lily.”

Sirius pulls back, tucking his knees under his chin. “Okay.”

James reaches out his hand across the bed, and while he doesn’t take it, he does stretch one leg just far enough that James can hold onto his ankle. 

“I think I have real feelings for her, you know? But they don’t…that doesn’t mean I don’t love you too. It doesn’t lessen it at all.” They stare at each other as James says, “I  _ know  _ I love you. And not just like a best friend.  _ In  _ love. I want to be with you, I want to go on dates with you, I want to love you and I want you to love me back.”

Sirius’s mouth drops open to make the tiniest ‘o’.

“And, you know, if you’ve changed your mind, or if you don’t wanna do this if I’m still into Lily, then that’s okay. I understand, and I asked Mum and Dad, and they said you’ll always have a place here, so you don’t need to worry about that. It’s okay.”

Sirius sighs. “I’m a little—scared, Jamie. Not of being kicked out, but if you’re into her, then how can you also be into me?”

“I just have a big heart,” James says, putting on airs to make him smile. “Big enough to love more than one person.”

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s not for everyone, but…,” James rubs a thumb over the curve of his ankle bone. “I can. And I can’t just forget my feelings, I  _ won’t _ , but I want to be with you.”

“C’mere,” Sirius says, opening and stretching out his legs. James quickly comes to lay on top of Sirius, making sure to keep most of his weight off. Sirius’s hands come up to caress his face, the backs of his fingers brushing against his jaw.

James can’t help himself—he leans down, and they kiss again chastely. Sirius’s fingers end up in James’s hair, but it doesn’t last very long with his glasses getting in the way.

He stays close, pressing soft pecks all over Sirius’s face, meeting sharp gray eyes.

“I want to be with you too. I won’t ask you to forget your feelings but—” Sirius cuts himself off to kiss James’s cheek, just at the edge of where his lips are curling up. Then he pulls back, pushing at James’s forehead until they’re face to face. James’s heart skips a beat at the depth of feeling in Sirius’s eyes. He smiles tremulously but sounds strong when he says, “I love you, too. Let’s try this, huh?”

James whoops, and ducks down for more kisses, but his smile is too wide for them to be any good.

* * *

The rest of the summer is like that. Incandescently happy, spooning in bed every night and spending days talking and chatting with the elder Potters. Euphemia and Fleamont are overjoyed for them, giving them a piece of advice they both take to heart: to be kind to one another.

When they aren’t spending time with James’s parents, they run around as Padfoot and Prongs, then collapse into the grass and talk about everything, everything. And at night, sometimes, when it feels like they’ll die if they don’t, they touch each other. Sirius learns what James’s moans sound like, and unbidden, compares them to Moony’s. He can’t choose a favorite, but it feels empowering knowing he’s caused that in each of them. There’s nothing better, he thinks, than making James’s breath stutter in his chest as he comes.

They don’t tell their friends what’s happened. They want—and need, Sirius thinks—some time just to themselves (and the Potters, but they don’t count). And anyway, he wants to be there and get to see their faces when they find out they’re dating.

He doesn’t think about his family at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for such kind comments. i woke up to five of them in my inbox and it really made my whole day! love yall <333


	5. i'd let you had i known it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it once again 4 am, aka my best posting time? sure is babey.
> 
> i rewrote this damn thing three times, and will have to add ANOTHER chapter on bc it got too long and i didn't hit everything i needed to in this one. i vaguely looked it over, and will do so again in the morning but for right now i just wanna post. 
> 
> to the person in the comments last chapter saying they sensed Remus angst: u were 100% correct. come get yall food kjdfhajk
> 
> also i should say, i...can't remember exactly what the timeline of canon is so just bare with me please. also i forgot about the prank being a thing so we're gonna ignore that.

“So,” Sirius says once they’ve all unpacked, and once he’s corralled both Remus and Peter to sit on the edge of Remus’s freshly made bed. He claps his hands together, glancing over to where James is standing beside him, shifting on his feet. Uncharacteristically, it seems more from nerves than from his usual build-up of energy, and it makes Remus nervous in turn.

The beginning of term always leaves him anxious, feeling paranoid that someone will suddenly come and tell him werewolves don’t belong at Hogwarts. And considering what happened over the summer—that terrifying note from James, explaining in quick chicken scratch that Sirius was both disowned and terribly hurt, panic clear in every messily written word—he’s extremely tense. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop. James not being his usual happy self today does nothing but add to the feeling.

Sirius looks nervous too. He doesn’t have any of the obvious tells—James shifts on his feet, Peter bites his lip, both of them and Remus tend to ramble—but Remus knows him well by now. He can see the impending eye-twitch, the slight strain around the corner of his mouth. He’s smiling, but there’s something that rings false about it, put upon. Remus has seen this variation before, aimed at teachers and Regulus and Narcissa. He knows that he’s seeing it now must mean something bad, and wishes it wasn’t being turned on him and Peter.

Sure enough, Sirius says, “We have some news.”

Remus shares a look with Peter, hoping he might have some idea of what’s going on. Something has felt different since a few days after that letter from James, like there was something not being said. Remus had searched every new letter from all three of his friends, trying to read between the lines, but couldn’t ever figure it out. He’d tried consoling himself with the knowledge that last time he was left out, it was because they were planning on becoming Animagi, and that whatever this was, it could be a good thing. That maybe they would let him in on it eventually.

But looking at Peter now, he realizes maybe he was wrong. Peter’s clueless, frowning and similarly scanning Remus for some hint. They didn’t tell him either. He isn’t sure whether this is a good thing or not, considering they might be about to tell both Remus and Peter together now. Either way, a pit of foreboding settles inside him, and he turns back to James and Sirius.

They don’t look different, exactly. Well, Sirius looks like he’s being fed, a healthier glow pinking his cheeks. James looks as he always does, taken care of and well-toned. They’re standing close together, but that’s nothing new. If soulmates were a thing, then surely they would be. (Remus tamps down on the flare of jealousy he feels, because it’s stupid and useless and there are better things to focus on, right this moment.)

Peter gets tired of waiting for someone to say something, and asks, “Well, what is it?”

Sirius and James look at each other again. Then Sirius reaches his hand down to grab James’s, lacing their fingers together. Remus quickly drags his eyes away, up to their faces.

Proudly, James announces, “Sirius and I are dating.”

Everything inside of him grinds to a screeching halt, and a sickeningly hot wave of emotions—jealousy, embarrassment, but most of all, shock—rushes through him. He has no idea what kind of expression he’s making, but finds it impossible to care, even though some small, still functioning part of him realizes this is a sensitive situation and he needs to handle it carefully.

Peter makes a shocked noise, leaning into Remus’s side like _he’s_ the one who suddenly feels faint. He lets out a flurry of questions: “Wait, what? Dating? You are? Since when? Like, actually dating?”

“Yes,” James nods, some of his nerves visibly leaving, replaced by his normal enthusiastic joy for life. _Wanker_ , Remus thinks, and it’s not quite as fond as it usually is. “We are, we’re really, actually dating.”

“Since this summer,” Sirius adds. He and James are beaming. They look so, so happy. Like every Hogsmeade trip combined, like… like they’ve matched with their soulmate. Fuck.

“Why?” Peter asks. There’s hardly a moment for the question to sink in before he’s correcting himself, “No wait, that’s not what I meant. I mean… how? How did it happen?”

“It just kind of did,” James shrugs. He slides an arm around Sirius’s waist, a casual and thoughtless gesture like he’s done it a hundred times, a thousand. And Sirius goes easily into the embrace, slinging his own arm around to hold James closer. Remus’s stomach twists, more hot emotions in him that he doesn’t want to name. “We were laying in bed and then Sirius just up and kissed me, and well, we had a chat. Decided we’re practically already dating, you know? Sleeping in the same bed, spending all our time together, and Merlin knows I couldn’t live without him.”

“And same for me,” Sirius cuts in, his expression—especially his eyes—melted into the softest Remus has probably ever seen it.

James leans forward and pecks him on the mouth. Something jolts in Remus, revolting against this, but there’s no time to focus on it. James is talking again. “So we talked, and realized if we love each other and we want to do _more_ together, then we should! No good reason not to, and plenty of good reasons to do it.”

“And now we’re dating,” Sirius says.

James’s smirk when he says ‘more’ makes it plainly obvious what he means. (Kissing, at the very least.) (Why didn’t they ever—) Remus swallows hard, pushing down all thoughts of James’s moan, Sirius’s blush.

Sirius meets Peter’s eyes, then Remus’s. “That alright?” He asks. His gaze and voice are both searching and a bit defensive. He’s not asking for their approval, exactly, but their acceptance. Their assurance that they won’t be pricks about James and Sirius being two boys in a relationship.

Peter doesn’t hesitate, sounding the tiniest bit offended that they might think so low of him. “Of course it’s alright!”

James and Sirius smile at him, relief obvious, and then all three turn to look at Remus.

And honestly? Remus wants to say no, it’s _not_ alright. How could it possibly be? They’re together and happy and have probably forgotten all about him. Under their gazes, he’s reminded painfully of those nights last year, with his bed curtains shut tight. The memories are always close, always circling, waiting for him to feel sad or horny or both, ready to strike.

He knew it was dumb to ever consider that maybe what he’d done with each of them wasn’t just friendly. He knew it was, but he thought it anyway, longed for it all summer and the months before that too. Because he’s an idiot, and because he couldn’t help himself or make himself stop, and because he just wanted so badly for it to all be real. And now they’re looking at him, and they’re dating, and he’s absolutely positive that he will never be touched by either one of them ever again. Never loved by them in the ways he wants. Never.

It’s fucking heart-shattering. But he can’t say any of that—he can’t ruin this friendship just because he has an embarrassing crush on both of them. Just because he’s jealous and wants them both in any way he can, but can’t have any of it. And it’s not like he’s homophobic, far far from it in fact.

Saying no right now would be selfish and useless and cruel. He can easily imagine their confusion turning to hurt, and that turning to lashing out. He doesn’t want to hurt them.

So he says, “Obviously,” and avoids James’s eye, staring just over Sirius’s shoulder. His throat feels tight like he’s about to cry, all of his feelings coalescing into a ball there. His jaw aches. He can only hope, desperately, that they won’t see any of it on his face. “I’m in no place to judge.”

He wonders what they make of that. If they think it’s a hint to Remus’s sexuality, or a reference to all those times together. But he doesn’t know—none of them say anything for a moment. None of them know what to say.

But then Peter—thank Merlin for Peter—asks, “So, are you wanting to keep this a secret? Or are you gonna tell other people?”

James looks away from Remus. He can’t read his expression for a moment before it smooths back into something recognizable, a teasing sort of seriousness that feels like something only he can ever manage. “Probably best if we don’t tell everyone, yet.”

“Can you imagine if Snivellus knew?”

“Or Regulus?”

Sirius doesn’t react to his brother’s name, not that Remus can see. But then, they all four, collectively, shudder at the thought of Snape knowing. He hates them all, and would surely not be kind about this new development. Remus doesn’t linger on the thought.

“We’ll keep it quiet, then,” Peter says decisively. He stands and grabs James into a hug, and James being a Potter lets go of Sirius to throw himself, full-bodied, into the new embrace. Into James’s shoulder, Peter says, “Congrats, lads!”

Peter lets go to hug Sirius, who flings himself into it the way he started doing just before winter break of their first year, the way he learned from James.

Remus doesn’t get up from the bed. He isn’t sure his legs will hold him if he tries. He tries to swallow down the knot but it doesn’t budge. “Yeah,” he says, injecting as much cheer as he possibly can into his voice. “Congrats.”

Peter starts calling for a celebration, and James starts planning one, but Sirius pauses in front of him. Remus can’t bear to look him in the eye for very long at all, so he stares at his chin and peeks up occasionally.

“Thanks, Moony,” Sirius smiles. His eyes are so bright. Remus has been dreaming of them for years. “Means a lot, really. I knew you’d be happy for us.”

Remus forces a smile on his face. “Right,” he whispers and pretends not to notice Sirius attempting to meet his gaze.

* * *

Eventually, Sirius joins in on the celebration talk. Remus sits on his bed, reorganizing his bookshelf over and over, feeling pins and needles starting to prick in his fingers as Peter asks for more details.

James and Sirius are glued together, it seems. They sit on James’s bed with their arms entwined, their sides touching so close there’s no space between them at all. It seems like every time Remus peeks over at them, he catches them kissing. They’re the height of young love, Remus thinks, fingers lingering on his copy of Pride and Prejudice, the only romance book he’s brought with him.

They start to explain what had happened, and at first, it’s interesting and infuriating, hearing about Sirius’s lasts days with his family. But then they move on, talking about cuddling in bed together, and Remus can feel himself starting to shake, the pins and needles spreading up his arms.

He grabs his shower things, trying to feign calm.

“Alright, Moony?” James asks just before he can escape.

“Just need a shower.”

He doesn’t sound very convincing, he thinks, but they wave him out, and he flees gratefully, hoping against hope that they won’t wait to tell the rest of the story until he comes back.

When he steps into a shower stall, naked and blissfully alone, he can’t ignore the constant, looping thoughts. He’ll have to be supportive of them and their relationship. He _will_ be, even if he has to force himself. But he doesn’t want to know every detail, honestly doesn’t think he can even stomach knowing more than he does now.

Of course, because his mind is traitorous and cruel, he’s reminded as he washes his chest that they must be having sex. He can picture it—James naked, his hands on Sirius’s waist as he sits atop James, both of them on a bed. Remus has never seen Sirius’s cock, but he has seen James’s, and so he imagines Sirius’s hand around it, pulling the way Remus has wanted to for months and months. In his mind, they kiss more deeply than he’s seen today, James panting into Sirius’s mouth.

Cursing, he pulls himself out of the fantasy—no, not a fantasy, he shouldn’t be thinking about them like that anymore—and ignores the way his prick is stiffening. He needs a good cry, not a wank, and anyway, someone could come in at any time.

Determined to think about something less racy, he tries to recall his class schedule… only for the thoughts to be pulled back, like a planet in orbit, to Sirius and James.

See, the thing is that Remus has had a crush on Sirius practically since they met in first year. It was low-key for a long time, blooming and becoming more obvious to him as he grew. It didn’t help that Sirius treats him a little differently, like he’s something special, caring and protective. It didn’t help that Sirius started to take care of him after full moons, quickly pulling the other boys into the routine of helping him back to the dorms, bringing him meals, all of it. 

Then there’s James bloody Potter, who’s beautiful and a jerk and so staunchly loyal it makes Remus’s stomach swoop just thinking about it. He always insists on buying too much chocolate, so Remus can have the extra, and gives the best hugs of anyone Remus has ever met. Every time Snape says something mean to him, James snaps back.

And really, it’s not just James who is beautiful, with his unending joy and conspiratorial glances and his _mouth_. It’s Sirius too, with his long, soft hair and his mischievous smile and his thin hands with thin fingers.

But he’s not just attracted to them, physically and emotionally. Their relationships go deeper than that. They’re his best friends. Alongside Peter, they’re his pack, his family. Two of the kindest people he’s ever met, who’ve done more for him than he could’ve ever expected or asked for. They hold him, they include him, they became illegal Animagi all for him.

They’ve _touched_ him, he thinks with some despair.

It’s all gotten so mixed up in his head, his more platonic feelings and how badly he fancies them both. He wants, desperately, to be happy for them. He wants to smile like Peter, hug them and congratulate them, and actually mean it. And in some ways, he does—Sirius deserves someone who’ll be as good to him as James will, who will give him family and companionship and everything he was deprived of. And James deserves someone who can match him, an equal who’ll return his attentions fully, who will meet him every step of the way. They’re perfect for each other.

But it’s easy to think those things. It’s not easy to feel any of it. He can’t do it, he can’t be happy for them the way he ought to be. Can’t stand to face the facts that they’re happy without him. He doesn’t fit into the equation when it’s both of them—when it’s just one, Sirius or James, when it’s just sex, he does. But both? And an actual relationship with real, reciprocated feelings? No. It won’t work. He won’t work.

He’s always known he’ll end up alone. The kind of strain and risk that comes with loving a werewolf is too much for anyone, even James and Sirius. What he did with them—whether he likes it or not—was only ever friendly, meant as a gesture of caring for him rather than anything done out of attraction. He knows that. But knowing it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

He’s pathetically grateful that, when he finally sulks back into their dorm room sometime later, all three of his friends are off somewhere, doing Merlin only knows what. Usually, it would hurt to be left behind, but not this time. Falling into bed, he shuts his curtains, presses his face into his pillows, and ignores the tears dripping down his cheeks.

* * *

Lily’s summer was, to no one’s surprise, not very good at all. It wasn’t relaxing by any means—Hogwarts feels more like home now, and going back to live with her Muggle family feels like having one of her senses taken away from her: jarring and uncomfortable. With Petunia around, constantly complaining about how awful and evil and unnatural Lily is, or talking up her Muggle life as if trying to make Lily jealous, well. There was precious little time where she felt she wasn’t being harassed.

She held her tongue near-constantly for three months, tiptoeing around in a world she felt she no longer belonged in. It was, of course, the very same world some wizards thought she should return to and never come back from.

During lunch one day in the second week of September, her eyes slip to the table across the room without her permission, immediately finding her old friend.

 _No, stop it right there. Don’t think about that_ , she chastises herself. But it’s so hard not to—not to remember the way he sounded, calling her a… a mudblood. The expressions of mortification, revulsion, and horror on his face. How he’d tried to apologize, poorly, many times while school was still in session, and then again over the summer. He’d come by, insulted Petunia who opened the door, and said his sorries again.

“For what?” She’d asked, arms crossed. It was so painful to look at him, to remember the boy she’d met all those years ago, and all the happy memories now tainted forever.

“For calling you a mudblood,” he’d said. And he’d gone on to explain, again, that she was different, and special, and he regretted calling her it so terribly. Something about it all had smacked so obviously false—his refusal, perhaps, to be sorry about saying the word in the first place. Just that he’d called her it—that she’d lashed out, going for the lowest blows she knew of in an even voice she knew upset him.

It was the worst argument she’d ever had with him. Worse than all of the ones she’d ever had with James or Petunia. Once the door was slammed in his face, she’d crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

(She’s still wondering how she never saw it, what all of her Gryffindor friends have always said—that he’s mean and bigoted, thinking very highly of himself and very poorly of everyone else, except for those he saw as the right kind of pureblooded. It’s obvious now he’s got her on some kind of pedestal. It’s not high enough, apparently, to save her from the pain of being called slurs though.)

Petunia had been quiet the rest of that day. She didn’t look at Lily—she never did anymore—but she didn’t say anything about how pathetic it was that Lily thought she was so special, and didn’t bring up her adoring Muggle boyfriend.

It’d been her sister’s version of mercy, she thinks. Something she was very unfamiliar with. And even now, thinking about it makes her stomach twist uncomfortably.

There’s been too much change. No more Sev. Seeing a side of Petunia that wasn’t cruel. And something else, too.

It isn’t until that day that she realizes it, but… she’s pretty sure James Potter is ignoring her. Okay, maybe not that far, but certainly leaving her alone. When they pass each other in the hall, unlike last semester, he’ll smile at her and move on. No more boisterous greetings, no more stumbling attempts at conversation, no more stupid stunts meant to impress her. He hasn’t even come up to her in class yet, asking for help with work he clearly knows how to do but pretends he doesn’t so they can work together.

She expects to feel relief, but she doesn’t. 

Yes, he was annoying, too loud and so present and over all very distracting at the worst times. But he was constant, too. She began to expect him popping up in the halls and in class, shouting across the Gryffindor table to ask her opinions on meals, winking at her before Quidditch games. Giving up his seat in the common room and making all four of them move just so Lily and her friends could sit. Offering his jacket when it got cold out, or to take off his shirt when it was too hot—”For your benefit, of course,” he joked. 

After what had happened with Sev, he’d started distracting him whenever it seemed like Sev was going to try and come say sorry again. She thinks she’s probably not supposed to know about that, but it was hard not to notice it, the way Sev would look at her all sharp and intense, and then how James would cut between, taunting and showy, his back to her and his hand on his wand.

But now there’s nothing.

She catches his eye across the table. He smiles, and she thinks maybe it is genuine, but then he looks away. Her stomach drops pathetically.

“What on earth happened?” Mary asks, peeking over at James, evidently having seen that. “Wasn’t he in love with you before hols?”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Yes, he did say that,” she says in a tone that heavily implies she doesn’t believe it. And how could she? Interested in her, definitely. There’s no denying that. But in love? They don’t know each other like that. (He’d been trying to get there, at least. Possibly. She’s pretty sure.) “I have no idea, he’s just stopped.”

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” Mary takes a bite of her soup, giving Lily an encouraging look, eyes wide and eyebrows quirked up.

It should be. Wasn’t she the one always complaining about him?

“I guess.” Lily drops her chin into her hand, feeling eyes on her back and determinedly avoiding turning around to glare. Can’t he leave her alone? How many times does she have to say it?

“He doesn’t seem too happy,” Mary says lightly. She’s been tiptoeing around the subject, trying not to hurt Lily’s feelings while also obviously being quite content to no longer have him hanging around. 

“When is he ever?” Lily sighs, twirling her spoon around the bowl. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Or James bloody Potter.”

She doesn’t want to play this stupid game. She doesn’t want to wonder what’s happened. She doesn’t want to admit to herself that she misses him and his dumbarsery.

“Alright, then,” Mary says, not reacting to Lily cursing James’s name. “Did you see that new book that came out? _Interview with the Vampire_ by… who was it… oh, right, Anne Rice!”

They talk about books for the rest of the meal, comparing what they’ve both read—on the whole, much more Muggle than magic—and ignoring the crush of people around them.

When they’re walking out, books in hand ready for their next classes, Lily finds herself a few meters behind James and the other boys. She watches as James pulls Sirius to his side and leans up to kiss his cheek. She watches as Sirius flushes pink but doesn’t push him away. And she watches as Remus scowls at the ground while none of them are looking his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for comments on the last chapter, im gonna try and reply in the morning! thank u i love u all, hope you enjoyed :D

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! if you liked this, consider leaving a comment <3


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